Hope

“And now, Lord, for what do I wait?
My hope is in You.” —Psalm 39:7

Author’s note: This is an excerpt from a letter I wrote from jail.

Hope. Hope is a funny, elusive, cruel thing. It is the thing that sustains me. But when crushed it sometimes seems that it will kill me. And it is cruel. So cruel. And little things. It always seems to be little things.

Like the hope of free time. Free time. What an oxymoron. “If your bed is not made, you're not coming out.” There are several guards who greet us with that statement every morning. The implication is that free time is coming. That hope is dangled before us at some point every day. But when we hear that in the mornings, everyone jumps up and makes their beds. Then we wait. And we wait. 9:00. 10:00. Lunch. Then more waiting. Soon, we begin losing that hope, as the reality of another day in lockdown settles in.

Then the frustration starts kicking in. Inmates all around the cell block start screaming obscenities. Slapping, banging, kicking their doors; the sound echoing inside the concrete walls. It's deafening. It usually goes on for an hour or so.

It's what “no hope” sounds like.

And “no hope” is what defines the atmosphere in here most of the time.

So, hope? No thanks.

Tomorrow marks one month that I've been here. Two weeks since the court said I could go home.

Hope… But I'm still in jail.

It's my fault. I know that. But it's still hard. It still hurts. I'm trying to figure out how I will survive here for the year my attorney says it will take for my case to go to trial.

I've lost hope that I will be going home. I'm losing hope that I will even have a home to go home too. I fish for reasons to hope. But they are rare these days.

I’ve learned some lessons about hope. Let it go. It's a cruel taskmaster.

Hope is no longer my friend. Hope has become my greatest enemy.

But at the same time, I find that my faith is soaring. My confidence in my new life has never been stronger. I know that I am a new man, and that God is making me stronger every day. I know that spiritually I am exactly where God wants me.

And because of all that, I have hope!
Hope that God is working on my behalf.
That there is a place for me to go.
That my case will not result in prison.
That I will someday see my family again.
That in time my marriage will be restored.

I know that I love my wife today more than I ever have. But I'm struggling to find hope for our future. But I have to! I can't help it. I have to hope that one day she will want me back.

So, hope? Yes! I must have hope.

I may be disappointed from time to time. I might even get crushed. But without hope what do I have? Nothing. So, I will continue to hope.

And when hope seems elusive, I will hope for more hope.